


Please, Never Fall In Love Again.

by TapiocaNinja



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/M, I apologize in advance, Jealousy, Keith no, M/M, Romance, Voltron, klance, klance is good, pinning, stop trying to stab them-, those are your feelings Keith, update schedules are non existent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 14:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TapiocaNinja/pseuds/TapiocaNinja
Summary: There were numerous reasons why Lance and Keith shouldn’t have gotten together in the first place. Despite that 1 year ago, in their senior of high school, they did anyways. It was no surprise after it was over, they only wished it’d hadn’t ended like it did. Now stuck in the same college they must face the music. Can the old wounds left behind really be healed?





	Please, Never Fall In Love Again.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: The horizontal line between paragraphs indicates that it's either switched the point of view or skipping to later in the story (or a flashback), or both!  
> Edited: 3/16/18  
> (sorry this is so darn short and sloppy)

       "You're like walking landmine," I heard him shout as he stood over the vibrant green grass that bustled when met with the wave-like impact of the wind. He clutched onto his bruised arm, I had been the cause of that purple and blue discoloration.

       In that moment I could’ve laughed because it really didn't match with his beautiful brown skin tone. I wondered how he’d react when this was all over and he was left to observe the damage I'd brought onto him. He'd probably just cover it with makeup. The thought of him sitting in the bathroom and swearing (most of which would be directed towards me) while applying concealer was almost too entertaining to hold in. I had to stop myself from giggling.

       No, this definitely wasn't the right time for that. Right now I was moments from being swung at. I watched his every move. He walked towards me, flattening gardenias underneath his shoes. I poked at the blood from my bottom lip and put up my fist. 

“Your move, Lance.”

* * *

 

     "Lance, Lance!" Pidge called out from beside him. The overflow of coffee spilled in between his fingers. The burning sensation brought him back to reality. He swore a little before grabbing napkins to clean up the spill. "How was space, ranger?" she said mockingly. He sat the drink on the counter and shook the excess coffee from his hands.

"I'd say it was great." Lance flashed the smaller a grin and surveyed his, now throbbing, hand.

Pidge gestured Lance to take a seat at their usual coffee table. He sat and watched as she pulled out bandages and burn ointment from the side pouch of her bag. He'd gotten injured so much throughout the five years of knowing Pidge. Eventually, she had just started to bring first aid with her whenever Lance was around. It was definitely convenient. He began to recollect all the fights he'd gotten in during those years as Pidge wrapped the bandage around his hand. 

Besides the chatter of from the cafe's usual customers, it seemed pretty empty. The early morning light poured through the windows. A sort of nostalgic feeling waved over Lance as he watched people come in and out of the pastry shop across the street. Pidge must have noticed him looking wistfully out the window. After she put away the first aid kit, she reached over the table patted him on the shoulder. The cafe door swung open, causing the wind chimes to clink. It was Hunk. He spotted the two quickly and ran over. Hunk's positive energy subdued the Lance's melancholic one. They both smiled and turned to him. "Morning, Sunshine," Lance said. Hunk sat next to Pidge and groaned. "Don't you 'Morning, Sunshine' me. You stayed up all night blasting music and this morning you took another hour shower. The hot water was practically nonexistent when I got in!" Pidge shot Lance an unforgiving glare. His scolding would've been way worse if she had been in Hunk's position. Lance was thankful she had morning classes.

"I thought you'd already gotten in," Lance said as he began to mix sugar into his coffee. "And my shower wasn't  _that_ long."

"Lance, since we moved in together, never have I ever gotten in the shower before you," Hunk replied. "Also-" Pidge slammed her hand on the table to interrupt Hunk and Lance's daily debacle. "Enough", she said "Hunk I think we both know by now how terrible of a roommate Lance is, but he helps pay the rent and it's too much work to find another roommate." "I'm right here y'know," Lance rolled his eyes. "Good, you need to know how shitty of a roommate you are," she replied with a smirk.

"Anyways," Lance began, "Are you all ready to paint the town red tonight? Maybe stop at a club or two?"

Pidge and Hunk stared at Lance like he’d just admitted to a murder. He waited a beat before returning their glances with a confused glare. “Hello?” 

“Lance you’ve got to be kidding, you’re not seriously planning on going to a party when mid-terms are literally right around the corner are you?" Pidge asked. “Pidge is right,” Hunk added, “you have a bad habit of not studying for important stuff.” 

“I’ll have you know I’ve never failed any of my exams!" Lance shouted, making the barista at the front of the shop jump a bit. 

"Lance we're not in highschool anymore... don't you think you should start rethinking your priorities?" Pidge asked before taking a drink of her coffee. Lance took in her words for a minute. He slouched back in his chair and sighed. He thought he was being mature. Adults party too. Hunk and Pidge just don't understand because they almost never go out to have fun; he thought to himself. Lance felt a sudden vibration in his hoodie pocket. He took out his phone and surveyed the notification. Hunk attempted to lean across the table to take a peak at it but Lance quickly shoved the phone back in his pocket after reading it. "I gotta go," Lance said while grabbing his backpack from the back of his chair and pushing out the chair to stand.

"Wait! Lance where are you going your next class doesn't start for another hour!" Pidge tried to call out to him, but he'd already stormed out.

* * *

 

 

As far as I was concerned, only me and the tree above me mattered in this moment. The message ringtone chimed through my pocket, and then the call one. Of I course ignored both, but I wasn't able to sustain my curiosity for long. A moment of hesitation stopped my hand only for a moment before I took my phone out and read the notification. Obviously it was from Dad, who else would be trying to reach me. Especially after what I'd told him before leaving. The once a month spamming was definitely expected. By opening my messages would put me at risk of him checking for the "read" icon. It was most likely him pursuing in same old lecture anyways. I sat my phone on my chest and closed my eyes. The wind blew and created music throughout the leaves in the trees. This is all I had left, the grass that tickled the nape of my neck as I lay down on it, and the shade under the tree.

The feel of another presence dawned over me along with the familiar scent of vanilla. From the corner of my eye I saw her peering over at me. "Pidge send you, Allura?"

She nodded and sat beside me. White strands of hair fell loose from her messy bun and she used a free hand to move them out the way. In her other hand was my wallet. "You left this at the cafe and since I had to run past this way, she asked if I could drop it off to you." She held her hand out to hand to hand it to me. I took it and sat myself up from the grass.

"How'd you know I'd be here," I asked.

" _I_ didn't, Pidge did," she replied. Of course Pidge knew, this place had been my safe-haven since the beginning of the first semester. I guess after a couple of coincidental bump-ins she started to catch on. I took a deep breath and shoved my wallet in my pocket. Allura turned to face me with a sympathetic look. "Lance I know it's been a while since we've brought the topic up but don't you think we should talk about what happened last year? You never told us much about it but I'm starting to think it has something to do with your withdrawal and I-"

"No," I replied, "Let's not bring that up ever again." I came off a little more defensive than intended and immediately regretted it. Allura's once considerate, concerned expression had morphed into one of guilt. I decided to say something, anything, to bring in a more positive mood. "Besides, innovative people, like myself, never live in the past." I stood up and put my hands on my hips triumphantly. I felt even worse for lying now, especially when I can't do anything else  _but_ live in the past right now.

Allura grinned, the guilt deepened. My phone buzzed and I let it ring multiple times before daring to check it. Allura didn't bother asking why I'd waited before seeing what it was. "Shit," my eyes widened at the screen, "I gotta go." 

"Why? Lance what happened?" Her brows furrowed as she spoke. 

"I'm almost gonna be late for class, that was my alarm." I quickly slung my backpack over my shoulder and waved goodbye to Allura. The wind felt nice through my hair as I ran towards the double doors. Contrary to it's usual, the hallways were fairly empty. I rushed through the corridor and made my way to the arts department. As soon as Professor McAlister's film class was in sight down the long hallway, my hope had revived. "I can make it," I reassured myself between pants. Making a clear focus on nothing but the sign above the door, I charged forward. 

Just as quick as I'd been to realize I was about to fall, my body had toppled forward and onto the ground. Ceramic tiles don't feel as nice when they're hard up against your face. I laid still on the ground and let out a loud groan. The sound of bottles hitting the floor and the feeling of whatever I had tripped on still under my leg urged me to pick myself up. I looked back to survey what it had been that tripped me, and there it was. Paint was now plastered on the walls, tiles, and a painting of what seemingly used to be a detailed painting of a lion in a pasture. Out of everything that was coated in the lilac pigments, _he_ got the worst of it.

My heart began to pulsate as I made out his expression. He sat there next to the art room covered in paint. We both stared at each other completely still and in awe. His indigo eyes brought back a swarm of unpleasant memories. I had to stare at something else, anything else. My eyes fell on my camera that must've fallen out of my bookbag. Which, in my defense, I didn't have time to zip up considering the scenario. My attention was brought back by the sound of murmured swears. I stared at Keith as he panicked at the aftermath. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no, no, no, no, no." Then added with, "Are you fucking kidding me!" His angered glance shot up at me. I jumped back a bit. 

Being that it was Keith whom I'd tripped over, I felt a lot less guilty for destroying his clothes and his artwork. Instead of apologizing I decided I'd take the petty road. My fist clenched at my sides and I diverted my vision from him to the ground. "Y-You should get your stuff out of the way. Who sits in the school hallway to paint anyways..." I said. Only for a moment did the feeling of instant guilt appear. I didn't bother to stay and see his reaction, I picked up my camera and opened the door to my class.

Upon entering, McAlister halted his lecture to inspect me. I stood in the doorway anxiously awaiting my scolding. First, he pointed at my "ornate" pants. "Oh- I tripped over a paint can in the hallway on my way here," I said, ready to defend myself. Then, he pointed to my camera which had cracked from the fall prior.

"And that?" he asked.

"Well you see I was rushing so I didn't have time to close my bag and-"

"Lance, you should see me after class," he said in his usual dispirited tone. I felt something dribble down my nose. I poked at it and looked at the droplet of blood on my finger. McAlister quirked his eyebrow, "Before that head to the restroom." I quickly covered my nose with my hands and made my way out of the classroom. I passed the art class, Keith was no longer there, and neither was his painting. There was only paint splatters. As I walked further down the hall I peeked in the garbage and found the missing painting inside. The spill barely even touched it. Keith's leg had shielded most of it. Either way, throwing it away wasn't necessary, it still looked well-drawn. 

I looked around to see if Keith had returned before picking it out the trash can. "It's perfectly fine."


End file.
